


Drag You Down

by jnic84



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: Giving the Alexandrians all their guns left the women of Oceanside defenseless, and you would do anything to keep them safe.





	Drag You Down

It had been weeks since Tara had led the Alexandrians back to Oceanside and commandeered all of your weapons, and Natania was still furious. Her anger was less palpable now, but few dared to cross her. Her silent fury assured that everyone gave her a wide berth.

You understood her pain and frustration and had no idea how to make things better. Without weapons your community was weakened. This camp, filled with women and children, was now at the mercy of any nefarious strangers. You didn’t blame Cyndie for helping Tara. The Alexandrians were facing much of the same horrors you had barely survived. Helping them had been the right thing to do.

Weeks turned to months and there had been no sign of Tara or Rick. Part of you feared they were long dead and Negan stronger than ever. Their possible failure left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. The Alexandrians defeat could spell the end of your peaceful safe haven and a return to the Savior’s bloody rule. Your return to Negan.

You saw Cyndie walk past the tables and benches where the children were eating and you moved to follow her. She spotted you from the corner of her eye and you signaled for her to meet you behind the cabin.

“We need to talk,” you spoke softly as she rounded the corner.

“What’s going on?” she bit her lip anxiously.

“We can’t go on like this for much longer,” you sighed, staring off into the distance at the sullen form of your leader. “Natania is no use like this. Without a leader, without guns, we’re sitting ducks.”

“You have a plan?” she wondered, glancing at the happy children and knowing deep down that something had to be done.

“We can’t spare many people, not with Natania practically catatonic” you frowned. “Rachel and the others can take care of the fishing. We need to go scavenging.”

“I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t think!” you interrupted harshly before closing your eyes and taking a calming breath. “Sorry, I just—we need to keep our people safe. You need to keep them safe.” She bowed her head and slowly nodded. You felt terrible for laying such guilt on her, but your fear had taken over. You couldn’t go back to that way of life. You couldn’t see any more people die.

“We can cover more ground if we split up. Walk to the highway, you go east and I’ll go west. Stay quiet and out of sight, and gather as much weaponry as you can carry. Guns are priority, but knives are good too.” Cyndie agreed.

“Who is going to tell Natania?” she looked at you warily.

“No one,” you admitted. “We keep this to ourselves, until we’ve got something to show her. You know her; she’s practically got us on lockdown right now. Tell Rachel to come up with a cover, just in case Natania asks about us.”

“I’ll go find Rachel,” Cyndie said, as you stood straighter. Given a purpose, she appeared more focused. You, on the other hand, couldn’t shake your nervousness. If you couldn’t find anything and Natania discovered you left camp on a fool’s errand, you were going to be in a world of hurt.

“I’ll pack some supplies, we leave in ten.” With one final nod to your friend, you headed inside to pack a couple backpacks.

You planned to travel light. You slipped a couple of bottles of water into each back, along with some food, unsure of how long you’d be gone. Flashlights were a must; it wouldn’t pay to be caught unawares in the dark. You strapped your trusted dagger to your thigh, feeling almost naked without the reassurance of even a pistol at your side. Without guns, knives and machetes had become everyone’s go to weapons. You put an extra knife in your pack, as well as Cyndie’s, and slipped outside.

You waited amongst the trees, keeping just out of sight of the women on patrol. As ten minutes neared, you wondered if Cyndie was going to be late. Just before your patience ran out, you saw her moving through the tree line.

Wordlessly you handed her the pack you set aside for her. After one last look at your home, you began your trek through the woods, Cyndie keeping pace in silence.

It didn’t take long to reach the highway.

The blockade Natania had made ages ago was worse for the wear after Tara’s departure, but still holding. You both made your way over the obstacles. There had been a fight along that stretch of highway, corpses littered the ground but they weren’t moving so you paid them little attention.

You had hoped that there might have been a stray weapon left behind in the melee, but no such luck.

Coming out the other side, you and Cyndie followed the road in front of you. It took an hour to reach the fork in the road. This is where you were to part ways.

Despite the lingering resentment you felt for her, you pulled Cyndie close. Her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, and you hugged each other tightly. Pulling back, you rested your hands on her shoulders and gave her a small smile.

“Stay safe,” you murmured, and Cyndie returned the sentiment with a weary grin. “We rendezvous here in four days.”

“I’ll be here, with a shitload of guns,” she declared optimistically, and you laughed softly.

“And remember, no one can follow you back,” you said solemnly. “No witnesses.”

“No witnesses,” she nodded sharply.

Giving her arm a quick squeeze you took a step back, looking at the open road ahead of you, and started walking. Neither one of you looked back. The mission was all that mattered now.

 

You knew you weren’t likely to find much at the first turn off you took. Your people had picked it pretty clean when you first set up at Oceanside. Still, you gave it a quick once over before calling it a bust and moving on.

Following the side of the road, you were grateful that you remembered to tuck your jeans into your boots. The grass was high and the insects everywhere. Your tank top left you exposed though, and you were pretty sure you had a couple mosquito bites already.

There was a rest stop to your left, and one bedraggled walker shuffling around the parking lot. Slipping your dagger from its sheath, you didn’t bother with stealth. Walking with deliberate speed toward the walker, who turned and groaned at the sight of you, you swiftly buried your blade into the side of its head. The body fell unceremoniously to the ground and you pulled the dagger free with a grunt.

The bathrooms were nightmarish. Blood streaked along the walls, broken glass, and in the men’s room lay an unfortunate man who appeared to have fallen and slammed his head into the corner of the sink. The smell was overwhelming.

You did your best, covering your nose and delicately checking the body, but there was nothing worth taking.

The diner next door proved a little more fruitful. You found a butcher knife, rusted but still usable, and a discarded box of shells in the back office. No gun though.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. More dead bodies than bullets found. You weren’t surprised. You hadn’t expected much on your first day out. The next two days, when you would be able to head deeper into the woods, should prove more worthwhile. At least, that is what you hoped.

Night crept upon you and you decided to call it quits at your fourth stop of the day. The gas station you came across wouldn’t offer much protection. The windows were smashed, the doors hung off the hinges, and even the office in the back wouldn’t provide much shelter. There were no windows there, but the door was in pieces and left you vulnerable to any walker that might stumble in while you slept.

You’re only alternative would be to sleep in one of the cars out front. But from the once over you gave them on the way in, that would not be happening. The driver still sat in one car, rotting away in the seat. The driver’s side window was broke out and the smell of death was impossible to stomach.

As quietly as you could, you pushed and pulled of the tall shelving units from the store to the back office. Your impromptu barricade would have to do.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

 

You woke in the morning, unsure of the time. If you weren’t awake at dawn, you never knew the time of day. There was just day and night.

With the feeling of safety that only the sun could provide, you made your way out the building and into the parking lot. Heading around back, you grew warily hopeful at the sight of the two cars left abandoned.

One was unsalvageable. The tires were torn and flat. The other looked promising.

You peeked in the windows, relieved when no body greeted you. The door creaked loudly when you opened it. After a quick look around to see if attracted any walkers, you crouched down, lying awkwardly across the driver’s seat. With your dagger, you reached down, searching for the wires to the ignition, and carefully stripped them.

The whole process took a few minutes considering you had to pause every few seconds to see if trouble was coming. But soon enough you found the right connection and the engine began to sputter to life.

Biting back a smile, you sat up, closed the door, and put the car in drive. You hoped this was a sign that this would be a good day.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the ride to your next stop, wherever it may be. It had been so long since you experienced a nice, relaxing drive through the country. The feeling was almost foreign, but one you didn’t want to let go.

With the car you could cover more distance. You passed up a few dilapidated buildings. They likely wouldn’t have much left to find, and if you were desperate you could always hit them up on the way back home.

A sign, half fallen, caught your eye and you perked up. It advertised a nearby housing development. Being so out of the way, this little community could be just what you were looking for. Planned development or not, this was still the South. Homes meant guns. And there was a chance no one had discovered them yet.

It was a quaint little spot, and you wondered why Natania passed it by when you fled the Saviors. But small or not communities like this tended to attract attention eventually. While a home and a proper bed might have been nice, nothing mattered more than safety. And not just from roamers. 

You parked the rusted sedan along the weed-strewn sidewalk. Your dagger was in your hand before you even opened the car door. Houses had supplies, but they also had walkers.

There were two to put down in the first house. They would have nearly ambushed you at the door if you hadn’t been prepared. With them gone, you took your time exploring. It didn’t take long to find a shotgun hidden in a bedroom closet, and a couple of boxes of shells stacked neatly on the floor.

You struggled not to feel elated as you loaded the gun, dropped the boxes into your bag, and placed the shotgun inside, leaving the grip exposed should you need to grab it in an emergency.

As you moved to the second house you allowed yourself to feel reluctantly optimistic.

Inside you found three walkers, one a child, and no weapons. Your optimism faded slightly. Reality always did like to give you a quick kick in the ass. Still that was only the second house of at least twenty.

The third was empty, of both walkers and anything the occupants could take with them as they fled. But they couldn’t have grabbed everything. A decent haul might still be found.

You were upstairs when the rumbling started.

The sound became more familiar as it grew closer, and you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. The home office you were standing in had a view of the once deserted street, and you crouched low as you dared to look outside.

A caravan, five or maybe six trucks, some large and built to carry heavy loads, a couple with the usual bed in the back. The beds weren’t empty, but filled with men. Armed men.

“Jesus—fuck!” you hissed, ducking down from the window and flattening your body against the wall.

You knew those trucks. Those men.

There was shrill whistle and a loud bang, and you found yourself whispering “Please not him, please not him—”

And then a voice rang out.

“Alright you sorry shits! You know the fucking drill. I want this place cleaned out!”

Your heart nearly stopped. Negan. His voice was unmistakable. It still haunted your dreams.

Rick must have failed. Oceanside had given everything they had, but it hadn’t been good enough. And now there was only Negan.

“Boss, there’s something you should see.” Your body tensed. Simon. He brought the whole damn crew. “Still warm…”

You leant over, barely lifting the lowest blind, and saw the pair standing in front of your car. Simon’s hand was on the hood, and he was looking up at Negan with an eager smirk.

“Well, well! Looks like we’ve got ourselves a live one!” You cringed and curled in on yourself. “100 points to the fucker who can bring me our guest. Still breathing preferably, but hey, shit happens.” His low, wicked laugh had your heart pounding.

Shock gave way to reality and you knew you had to move.

The car wasn’t an option. Running out the back might buy you a little time, but there were so many Saviors around that it would only be a matter of time before one of them spotted you.

You didn’t bother grabbing your gun. Firing off a shot would lead them all right to you, next to a dead Savior.

The only solution was the roof. If you could climb out the window and find a spot on the roof to lay low, maybe you could make it out this.

Panic filled you when you heard the front door open. Running to the back bedroom on the second floor, you tried to throw open the window but your hands were shaking. It took you much too long to unlatch it.

You scrambled to push up the window, taking your knife and cutting open the screen desperately.

Footsteps were thundering up the stairs and you heard a man yell “Hey!” as you slipped one leg out the window.

They say adrenaline can be handy in fight, but it can also be your worst enemy. It made you jittery, your movements uncoordinated. You let the panic get the best of you, and you let out a frantic scream as a hand locked itself around your other leg.

You tried your best to yank it out of his grasp, but the man’s grip was solid and he pulled you harshly back inside. Tumbling to the floor, dagger still in hand, you swung wildly. You must have made contact, because he bit out an angry curse.

Taking aim at his booted foot, you brought down the knife but he moved before you could pierce him. Instead his boot came down on your hand and you dropped the knife with a sharp cry.

“Bitch,” he muttered, grabbing you roughly by the hair and dragging you to the stairs. You struggled to stay upright as he hauled you downstairs like you were luggage. The whole time, from the bedroom to the front door, you tried to pry his hand loose but with your right hand in searing pain there wasn’t much you could do.

Your eyes were watering and you couldn’t see more than a blur as he manhandled you toward the street. The commotion drew some attention and you could hear people moving closer as you came to a stop in the middle of the road, on your knees.

You tried to brace yourself with your hands, but were knocked off balance once more when he pulled you backwards, tearing the pack off your back.

Relieving you of your shotgun, he placed the barrel at the back of your head. Curious, amused voices lowered to a murmur as booted feet leisurely made their way to you.

“Hell, Mark. Don’t tell me this little thing got a piece of you,” Negan snorted, glancing at the blood dripping down the man’s chest.

“Just a flesh wound,” he grunted as you kept your head down.

“You are a feisty one,” he grinned down at you. “Now I gotta ask, what are you doing out here in the butt-fuck of nowhere all by yourself? It’s a dangerous world…walkers, Claimers…me.”

Your jaw was clenched so hard you swore you heard it pop.

You flinched when the tip of his bat met you chin, the barbed pricking your skin. “I asked you a fucking question, darling. It’s only polite to answer.”

“I—” you stammered, knowing there was no way to talk your way out of this one. You saw his knees begin to bend as he moved to crouch down at your level.

“Am I that fucking scary?” he teased, looking back at Simon with a sarcastic expression. Simon grinned wide, amused. “Come on, honey,” Negan entreated, turning back towards you and leaning in. “Look at me.”

When you did nothing but continue to shake in fear, your felt his hand on your jaw, caressing it lightly before squeezing it menacingly. “I said look at me.”

Finally doing as you were told, you allowed yourself to look him in the eye. The grip on your jaw tightened unbearably before it released entirely.

Negan sat back on his haunches, studying you for a minute, face hard and emotionless. Then a smile began to blossom and he let out a delighted laugh.

“Fuck me!” he chortled, pushing himself up to stand before leaning back to get a good look at your stricken face. “This is a fucking banner day!” Simon followed his gaze, raising a surprised brow at the sight of you. His mustache curled up as he smirked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I have missed you,” Negan crowed. Some of his Saviors, new to his service, looked at each other in confusion. “Have you missed me, darling?”

Somewhere inside you found the strength to look him in the eye, without a teardrop spilling, and tell him honestly, “No.”

“Well that just breaks my fucking heart,” Negan rumbled, dark and foreboding. Looking up at Mark, he sneered, “Put the fucking gun away and throw her ass in the truck.”

In no time, Mark grabbed you by the arm and began to lead you toward the pickup that Negan had undoubtedly arrived in.

“Keep a fucking eye on her, Simon,” Negan ordered, eyeing you warningly. You licked your lips nervously and he smiled tauntingly. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, dear wife.”

Mark’s grip softened a bit at Negan’s revelation, but it didn’t ease your worries. Things were just as bad as you thought.

There would be no more peace for you. There was only Negan.


End file.
